


Ease the Tension

by redscout



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-typical language, Fluff, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscout/pseuds/redscout
Summary: Donut sees Grif is a little stressed out from Simmons' recent departure, and decides to try and help out.





	Ease the Tension

**Author's Note:**

> set during season 4 when simmons quit red and painted himself blue
> 
> also before we begin anybody else in the club like Embarrassed Grif
> 
> edit: in my haste to be asleep last night i neglected to mention that this was a fluff week prompt
> 
> "fluff war prompt: grif isnt have a good day and donut tries to cheer him up"

It was the third day in a row now that Donut glanced off the top of the base out over the expanse of Blood Gulch, eyes tracing its rolling hills only to be met by the orange soldier standing unassumingly on the front lines. He couldn’t ever be sure what Grif was doing out there, but he was almost positive it was Simmons’ fault, for leaving red base after he was going nuts. Donut tried to give words of advice, but if the maroon soldier was unable to listen to well-intentioned reason and comfort, fine, Donut would take his services elsewhere.

It took a couple of minutes to jog out to where the other soldier was standing, transfixed on something Donut couldn’t make out, and silence permeated the air. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed him yet. He cleared his throat, but Grif gave no indication of delivering a response, nor of acknowledging him in the first place. Damn, that canyon wall must be _really_ interesting.

“What’cha doing, buddy?” he chirped, eventually, and Grif finally gave him a glance, seemingly shaken out of his self-induced trance.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m just curious.” Donut hummed, swinging his hips to and fro a little. “You keep coming out here in the middle of the canyon to stand, and I can’t figure out why.”

“I’m thinking,” the orange soldier responded, gruffly, and he turned to face the cliff’s edge again.

“About what?” Donut asked nonchalantly, clearly avoiding the obvious answer.

“...I, I dunno, things. Important things. Go away.” Donut smiled behind his visor and nudged Grif in the shoulder encouragingly.

“Aw, come on, buddy!” He thought for a moment. “Is it Simmons’ fault?”

“What? No!” Grif stated, shockingly quickly, and he addressed the pink soldier again with increased intensity. “I said go away, Donut, you’re interrupting my day!”

“You’re not doing anything!” Donut defended himself, and put his hands on his hips when Grif muttered something and turned away from him again. “Okay, fine, but you can’t avoid my pull forever, Grif!” He turned and began to walk away, but called over his shoulder one last time, “I’ll have you tight in my clutches like a strong man gripping his--”

“Not funny!” Grif yelled back immediately, and Donut chuckled to himself.

\- - -

“Okay, Grif, I’m serious this time!”

“What?”

“Just sit down!”

“Jesus, okay, whatever.” Grif was in seemingly the same mood he’d been in for the past two days since the last time Donut had tried messing with him, but persistent prodding had been enough to fuel a conversation or two, and eventually earn him a real listen. Grif sat down with a minor amount of difficulty on the hill, and Donut sidled down behind him, forcing the former to bristle slightly.

“Uh, you know, this is gonna be a lot easier if you take your armor off…” Donut chided slowly, slipping his own helmet and glove pieces off like it was common sense. Grif stared him down hard, but Donut’s eyes were wide with honesty, and he gave a groan as he began to do the same.

“What even are you doing… we’re in the middle of the canyon, the Blues could come out of nowhere and start shooting at us or something!” The incredulously bored look the pink soldier threw him gave him the notion to shut up until further instructed, grumbling something to himself, and Donut nearly felt giddy with the positive response he was getting. Grif normally didn’t even bother to listen to him at _all,_ never mind following an actual direction.

As soon as Grif had the entirety of the upper half of his armor off-- neither of them even made an attempt at the leg pieces while seated-- they sat quietly for a moment, breathing in the light, Blood Gulch air. Donut sat with a peaceful smile on his face while Grif remained uncomfortably nervous, trying to look anywhere but at his companion.

“What are we doing again?” he finally asked, and Donut shushed.

“Just breathe for a minute, Grif. Relax.”

“This is stupid.” Grif crossed his arms adamantly and Donut gave him a hard nudge in the shoulder.

“You’re just being a sourpuss! I’m trying to help!”

“Help with what? I don’t need help!”

“That’s not what the knots in your back say,” Donut chastised once more, and Grif’s facial expression hardened as the pink soldier moved fully behind him again.

“Donut, I have no fucking clue what you’re-- oh.” His sentence turned into a hushed realization as Donut’s hands met his tensed back with gentleness, and precision, and he began slowly massaging up and down his friend’s shoulder blades. Grif’s malice seemed to melt right from his body, and he quieted down near immediately under the touch of the pink soldier.

“I figured, you know,” Donut chatted along, lively with his actions and his words, “you’ve looked so tense lately, always standing up here, staring at things like you’ve got no purpose in life. It’s silly! You, of all people, know how to relax, or at least I’d have thought.”

“I’m… not stressed,” Grif attempted to lie through his obvious gratitude, turning to stare at the cliffs again as a light red tinged his cheeks. “Just… bored.” Donut forced out a little laugh.

“Okay, whatever you say!” It remained quiet a little while longer, only the occasional hum from Donut and the breeze filtering the silence in the canyon. Grif seemed somewhat at peace with this arrangement, loosening up as his friend massaged gently against every inch of his back. His breathing got gradually slower until he seemed fully relaxed, and the soft smirk returned to Donut’s face. “You know, Grif,” he began, almost sarcastically, but clearly baiting for the proper response, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you’ve never even _gotten_ a massage before! You’re a stress goldmine, dude!” Grif shifted a little bit, scratching at his neck before electing to respond.

“Nobody’s ever offered,” he returned, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t know it, uh… felt, like that.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks.” His blush seemed to deepen, and Donut continued to rub circles with his palms.

“Well, I’m always around. These hands _weren’t_ just made for tossing!” Silence followed his remark, but he could tell Grif was focusing intently, leaning into every touch like he was truly lavishing it. Donut was simply happy to be of use, and admiration. “And, Grif,” he added quietly. “I’m sure Simmons is gonna come back at some point.” To his surprise, this didn’t earn him a twitch, or a grunt, or even an angry response. Grif just kind of chuckled, lazily.

“Yeah, who cares,” he stated simply. “I don’t see Simmons going out of his way to be nice to me.” He rubbed the side of his arm gently, and slowly brushed Donut’s hands away. The taller soldier looked confused for a moment before Grif slowly adjusted himself to lay on his back with his head in Donut’s lap. Donut stared at him in surprise, but Grif’s eyes were focused on the sky. “I _guess_ I don’t hate you.” He sounded serious, but a smile twitched on his lips when he met eyes with Donut again.

“Oh, come on, Grif, you can hate me all you want. Really! Isn’t that just ‘The System’?” There was a twinkle in his eye that Grif caught, and they both exchanged real smiles.

“I guess you’re right. Hey Donut? You suck.” Donut beamed brightly and gradually moved his hands to brush between Grif’s thick, choppy hair. He seemed subtly surprised at first, but eventually closed his eyes, giving into the petting without much of a pushback.

Time seemed to pass slowly like this, but Donut paid extra attention to everything, taking in Blood Gulch as he had many times before. It was true, it was just some shit, dirt canyon, but he supposed he felt at home here, in a way. He wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that exact moment.

“Hey.” Just as he assumed Grif was drifting off under his hands, he glanced down to spy that familiar red tinge on his cheeks. “We should, uh, do this again, sometime. Maybe.” Grif cleared his throat and glanced off to the side bashfully, and Donut offered another light simper as his hands continued to play with the other soldier’s hair.

“Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”


End file.
